Mirrors
by James Harper
Summary: A little bit of Logan's thoughts on Kyle Gibney, Wild Child.


I look at him and see what I could have become. What I've been. An animal trapped inside a man's body. Fightin' ta get out, ta hunt, ta kill. All the time it's workin' on gettin' control, and the man inside's loosin' the battle.

The resemblance ta Creed can't be denied. The mutation, the attitude, the coloring...it's all the same. Even the look in his eye, sometimes.

Of course, I can't judge. I've had that look from time ta time. When there's nothin' left of the man, and the animal breaks free. The mind just goes away, someplace different, where it shuts the hell up until the animal's ready ta give back the body. It kinda reminds me of dyin'.

The body's there, but the mind's somewhere else entirely. The body just goes on about it's business, until it's stopped, or it's ready ta stop.

People think I hate him. Kyle Gibney, I mean. Wild Child, or Wildheart. Whatever the hell he's goin' by these days. That's not the case. Thing is, I understand him.

I get it. I see it when his mind goes away, and all that's left is the animal, wild yet caged. Dying to get free, to fight it's way out, not understanding why it's trapped in this unfamilliar body, and why these people who look like it act so strangely. I know what that's like, and I don't hate him for it. I pity him. I feel sorry fer the kid. He ain't been at it as long as I have, so he's still goin' through the growin' pains.

He ain't like Creed, though. The resemblance is there, but he ain't like Creed. He's better'n Creed. Maybe better'n me. His animal isn't trapped by what the man wants. It knows that all it has ta do is ask, and he'll set it loose. He's more at peace with what he is than me or Creed.

Fer me, I gotta keep the animal under wraps. There's more important things goin' on in my life that I need ta handle before the animal can get what it wants, and sometimes what it wants can't be had. I got no illusions about who or what I am, but I have to fight it every single day.

With Creed, the man's worse than the animal, and the animal knows it. Creed's animal doesn't like him, and so when he pushes the animal out into the open, it's not so bad. The man's the one ya gotta worry about. The killer...

Kyle, though. Kyle's animal is always around. Always just under the surface, ready ta come out and push harder than the man, if need be. They're friends, him and the animal inside. They work together, and it works fer them, most o' the time.

Maybe what it is I feel ain't pity, but jealousy. I wish I could get along with the animal inside me, but I live too much in man's world. Kyle can decide ta go off and loose himself in the woods for as long as he likes, and the world will keep spinnin' without him. He does his part in the natural order of things, and that's that. He could give up the adventurin' life and be done with it all in a heartbeat, and fate, the universe, whoever's runnin' the show, wouldn't care too much.

Me? Nah. I've become too much of a player in the grand scheme o' things. It ain't a bad gig, but I'm tired of it. I don't want the fate of the entire mutant race hangin' in the balance of whether or not I win the next fight. I don't want the bad guys ta see me comin' and drop their weapons, screamin' "Oh no! Here comes Wolverine!".

I wanna run through the woods instead of across a battlefield. I wanna swim in a lake instead of outer space. I wanna hunt deer and rabbit and fish, instead of terrorists and Sentinels and ninjas. I wanna sleep on the ground instead of in a jet on the way to the next mission. I wanna wear my own skin instead of a yellow and blue battle suit. I wanna be able ta wake up and hear the sounds of the forest instead of the next battle plan, and my own ghosts tellin' me how much I've already failed.

I don't hate Kyle Gibney. Nah. I feel sorry that I can't help him out with what he's goin' through, and I want what he has, and I know I can't have it yet. Maybe someday I'll be able ta dissappear inta the woods and live alongside my animal, instead of strangling it all the time.

Maybe someday...

Maybe...

Someday...


End file.
